A Dance with Blades shorts
by yelenam
Summary: A series of short stories taking place in the same setting as my "A Dance with Blades", featuring different characters and different stories in relation to the original story. Each chapter will be its own short story. Please review! :)
1. Tea with Mrs Crownguard

**Tea with Mrs Crownguard**

"Your mother hates me." She glared at the half-naked demacian lounging on the vast bed. He was grinning stupidly at her, as if her words entertained him somehow. She heartily suspected they did, for they were spoken earnestly. He thought the entire thing absolutely hilarious; she threw a pillow at him, which he caught in front of his laughing face. Oh, how she despised him sometimes.

"This is _not _funny, Crownguard!"

She held the note in her hand; it had arrived at Garen's town house a few minutes ago, and she had nearly scared the pants off the messenger when she was the one who had opened the door. For a brief moment she had wondered why, but that was until she saw the sender of the note. His mother had not warned the messenger who was likely to answer the door at the demacian commander's house, for while some people had gotten somewhat used to the fact that Katarina stayed at the commander's house during her diplomatic stays in Demacia, it was far from common knowledge yet. She was content to keep it that way, but that also meant the messenger had very nearly run scared when she opened the door with her hair in disarray, wearing only a large shirt of Garen's.

She opened the note to read it again. It was from Garen's mother. At first, when she had seen who had sent it, she had given it to the commander to read, but he had chuckled and given it back to her. It had been for her, and was an invitation to tea later that afternoon. She had been so confused that she had read it three times before she comprehended the words. She'd checked the envelope, to see if it was delivered to the wrong house; Lux had her own house now, next to Garen's, and she had thought it might have been meant for the blonde strategist. But no, it had been addressed to her specifically, naming her as 'the noxian ambassador.'

"I'm not going." She threw the letter onto the desk, and herself back on the bed. Her weight was barely noticeable next to the burly man, but he rolled around to nearly squish her between him and the soft mattress. He grasped her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss.

"You are. My mother does not invite just anyone to tea."

"Am not. I would rather have never met the woman." She slipped her hand out of his grasp, placing it against his cheek. It was stubbled and crinkled with a smile, but she could not see his humor. There was nothing funny about this. If she attended tea, she would be expected to wear a dress, to not carry weapons, and most of all to behave herself. She did all those things very poorly.

"Katarina. We decided we would make this work." His blue eyes gleamed in the dim light let through the heavy curtains. "That includes trying to get along with my mother. It will also help your diplomatic duties, even during this peace, as my parents are both on the council."

She sighed; she knew all this, but it did little to convince her. There was very little he could say that would convince her.

"Your mother hates me."

He sighed with amusement. "You're right. She does. Which is why it is important that you make an effort to let her get to know you, so that she won't. If you never see her, she'll never know you."

"You put her up to this, didn't you?"

Her hair slid through his fingers as he caressed her, from the edge of her forehead down her back, slipping slightly under the shirt she had put on to answer the door. Refusing to shiver, to let him know he was getting to her, she kept her glare on him. He leaned in to give her a kiss, but she pulled her head back as far as his weight atop her would allow.

He sighed. "Yes. I did. Like I said, we decided we would make this work. Remember?"

"I remember."

"Good." He leant in to kiss her again, and this time she allowed it; if she were to go to tea with his mother later on, she would need a through distraction beforehand.

* * *

She knocked on the door, waiting for it to open whilst glaring at it. The man who opened had a good-natured smile, and took no notice of her glare except to smile at it. He turned sideways in the door to let her in, and called for his wife as he made his own way out.

"Lilia, dear! Your guest is here!"

Before he left he winked at her. She suspected Garen had confided in his father his plan for her and his mother to get to know each other. _Men_.

Lilia Crownguard entered the hall as Katarina looked around. She had only been in this house twice before; once when looking for Jarvan, the other after the ball. Remembering the latter occasion, she also remembered how glad she was that he had deigned to get his own house at last. He had had no need of it before, but when it had become clear that she would be staying in Demacia from time to time, he had, wisely, seen the idea of his own house as less of a chore, and more of an opportunity. She did not think he minded having his own place, even if he had never before considered it. She would never have stayed in the same house as his mother.

When she had mentioned it to Talon, he had laughed, and offered to assassinate Lilia Crownguard, seeing as it would be rather awkward if she now was to do it herself. She had given it brief consideration, if not seriously, as it would be sure to make her life in the future simpler. She heartily regretted not taking him up on her offer as she stood in front of Lilia Crownguard, enduring her scrutiny.

For the occasion, she had worn a ruffled shirt in place of her armored breastplate, and had replaced her armored gloves and boots with soft ones of leather. She had even left most of her weapons at the commander's place, bringing with her only the three short daggers strapped to her leg.

"I'm glad you decided to make it." Lilia's tone made it perfectly clear that she had expected her to decline the invitation, and that she was a little disappointed she had not. Apparently the olive branch had been more of a gesture than an actual invitation, but Katarina decided to pay it no mind. They _had_ decided they would try to make this work, even if she was briefly reminded of the fact that Darius had no parents.

"So Katarina, what are your plans for the future?" The question hung as suspended in the air as the cup of tea she had been on her way to drink from. It hung now frozen just before her lips, and she found herself quite unable to move it.

It took her several long moments to be able to move the cup again, though she put the cup down, rather than drink from it. This was the question she had wondered if and when would come.

"I plan to continue in my capacity as the noxian ambassador, and will subsequently split my time between here and Noxus."

"I see. And my son?"

Katarina appraised the older woman sitting across the table from her. Her light hair was speckled with grey, pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, framing her thin face. She looked so unlike her son, and yet so similar. They were both regal, but in their own way, and looked like they should have armies at their command. One of them had.

"My plans include him as well."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what are his plans?"

"The same as mine."

Lilia Crownguard took a break to have a sip from her cup of tea, whilst glaring at her. "My daughter is dating that explorer, and my son is living with you. Does neither of them realize that I am of an age to have grandchildren?"

Grandchildren. Lilia Crownguard wanted grandchildren. Lilia Crownguard had invited her for tea. She blinked once, twice, before the sentence sank in. Grandchildren? What was Lilia Crownguard telling her for? Surely she should be telling her own children about this. What did she have to do with Lilia's grandchildren? And then it hit her; that was the reason she had been invited over for tea. Did Lilia expect grandchildren from _her_?

"Grandchildren? Surely not already?" Trying to keep her voice disinterested and distant, she forced herself to gulp down the rest of her tea, only to find her cup had been refilled, and the liquid was now scoldingly hot. She tried to cough it out again, but it was too late. Her sore throat burned as she coughed, and she looked around for something to soothe it with, but found nothing.

To her credit, Lilia looked mildly concerned when she finally looked back at the dignified woman sitting there, waiting to hear about possible grandchildren.

Katarina looked away, trying to pass off the uncharacteristic blush coloring her cheeks as a reaction to the hot tea. They had not even _talked_ about this, and now his mother wanted to know what they had decided upon.

"My son knows I expect this of him. I had hoped he would marry the princess Jean, and be a father already. However, you have disrupted those plans."

"I assure you, that was not my intention," she replied, trying to keep her voice distant, while failing miserably. She could not get the concept of children out of her head; she had never thought much about it, always having assumed one, that she would not find a man she cared for, and two, that even if she did, she would die before anyone would expect it of her.

"What is done is done. With princess Jean now a traitor, it would do him no good. I had, however, hoped that he would have found himself another suitable wife by now."

Katarina looked at the Crownguard matriarch, who sat so calmly telling the woman her son loved that he should marry, because she expected grandchildren, and narrowed her eyes. "Your son is quite capable of making those decisions for himself."

Lilia waved her hand, as if dismissing the entire idea. "Katarina, do you think I expect too much of my children? I am willing to ignore the fact that the two of you are not married, and that you will likely never be. However, surely you must have discussed having children. It's a natural step, following the ones you have already taken."

She sat stunned, her expression frozen in disbelief. Children? _Her? Now?_ What was Lilia Crownguard thinking?

"We have not talked about it. About _any_ of it."

Now it was Lilia's turn to look taken aback, as if she could not believe that they would not have talked about this.

"My son knows what I expect of him; what comes with his rank. Children are, compared to many other things he should worry about, a rather small matter. They would not be much work for either of you, as you would employ a full-time nanny as is the custom, and I would take care of them as well. Really, after they are born you would rarely have to see them. I would be more than happy to take care of them."

Them? Did she expect more than one? Katarina's cup of tea rattled slightly in her hand as she considered the possibility, not only having children, but then leaving them to strangers.

Katarina had been raised by her father, and while he had not had much time to actually raise his daughters, he had not left them in the hands of nannies, instead taking them with him wherever he went within Noxus. If something happened to make him leave the city, he would leave them in the company of his friends from the High Command. She did not remember her mother, who had died shortly after Cassiopeia's birth, but remembered the empty feeling it had followed her death; it was not something she would wish upon any children, especially not if she was to ever have her own.

"I would not leave my child in the hands of nannies."

Lilia Crownguard smiled, as if she had expected this turn of conversation. "I am sure. However, as their grandmother, I would be supremely fit to take care of them should either you or my son have to leave Demacia for your diplomatic duties."

"It is much too soon to consider _any_ of this, Mrs. Crownguard." Her voice came rather higher than usual, and she found herself edging closer in her seat to where she knew the door to be, even as her eyes would not move from Lilia's face. The entire concept of children scared her; she could not remember the last time she had been so terrified. _Children_. _Her_. _Now_. Another thought struck her; not only her children, not only her children now, but they would be Garen's children, too. Why had she ever come to tea, if his mother was trying to talk her into having children.

"It is not," Lilia stated plainly. "It is much, much too late already. My son is already of an age to be a father many times over, and you a mother."

"And what if I don't want children? What if Garen does not want children?"

The woman dismissed this idea, too. "Of course you want children. If not now, then soon. As for my son…" She sighed. "You can influence him. I know you do already; why not change the subject? If you wished children, I am sure he would not be averse to the idea."

"But I do not wish for children. Not now, perhaps not ever." The older woman sat stony faced as she continued. "If Garen desires them, then _we_ will talk about it. Until then, I am afraid I must disappoint you, Mrs. Crownguard."

* * *

Arriving back at Garen's house, she slammed the door after herself. If the demacian commander had had any servants, surely someone would have come running. As it was, she was profusely glad he had none. She found him where she had expected to find him, sitting at his desk with several stacks of paperwork in front of him. To her dismay, she saw several aides to the prince in the room. Her commander looked up, a small smile playing on his lips; it widened when he saw her expression.

"What did my mother want?"

She leant over the desk, bending so she was nearly face to face with him. He wore that infuriating smirk that she usually loved, but now it served only to annoy her.

"We are never having sex again!"


	2. When Katarina met Talon

She had been summoned to her father's office, which was a rarity in and of itself. That was why she had dropped everything to be there, only to be surprised to see that Cassiopeia had come, too, running towards the door as if she knew something.

Katarina raised an eyebrow at her younger sister, who rolled her eyes at her in return. Pausing before the great wooden door that was her father's refuge at the High Command, Cassiopeia took a deep breath before knocking.

"Katarina. Enter."

With a careful look at her sister, Katarina entered the office alone, only to be met with darkness. Though she had recognized her father's voice from through the door, Katarina was instantly suspicious; why would her father be sitting all alone in the dark?

Her father's figure was barely an outline against the window, and he sat perfectly still. However, something was moving in the dark room. She stilled, listening intently for any sound. In the near-perfect stillness, she heard her father breathing, and thought she could hear Cassiopeia's breathing from behind the door. There was nothing else, except a feeling that there was _something_… No, she realized, that could not be right. She would not hear Cassiopeia _through _the door. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what the two separate breaths meant.

Her hand twitched towards one of her curved daggers, and she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. Needing no further convincing, she drew both her daggers and turned towards the shadow. He was on her before she had drawn her blades, but she had sidestepped out of his path. In the dark she relied more on her hearing than her sight, though she occasionally spotted him out of the corner of her eye by the dim light of the window.

Through all their maneuvering, her father sat perfectly still at his desk. She was unsure whether he was intently observing or bound by some sort of spell; the man did not seem like magic, however. In her training she had been taught to feel magic about her, and it had certainly been a useful in the past.

If it had been anyone else, she would have leaped to the conclusion that her father had been somehow stilled. But it was not; her father just might decide to try to have her killed before breakfast just to test how her training was progressing.

She quickly drew one of the smaller throwing knives she kept at her belt and used it to stab at the other assassin in the room. Initially she thought she would surely miss, but her knife met resistance halfway through her stab. With a grin she twisted the knife, and heard the satisfying grunt that meant she had hit him, if only with the short blade.

He moved fleetingly, and she followed around him and dodged. At first it was like a dance; they moved slowly and steadily, careful, as if they were lovers dancing together for the first time. Then it sped up; they moved faster and wilder, trying to get one over on the other. For the first time in years, Katarina felt as if she was truly fighting for her life.

She had never fought anyone like this before; she had had training against other assassins, but they were more often than not already retired, and so a bit out of practice. Her father was still the best knife-wielder she knew, but his style of dueling was so different she could not compare the other assassin with him. Most of her other trainers had been swordsmen; skilled with their weapons and stronger than her. They had used their strength against her, more often than not using raw force instead of speed to win. When she had realized her speed and flexibility was the key to defeating them, it had come easily to her. This assassin was different; she had never met his like. He was easily as good as her, perhaps even better, and skilled in the same style of fighting. Time would soon tell, as one of them would likely die at the hands of the other within minutes. With that thought in mind, she renewed her attack; she would _not_ die.

However, they eventually hit an impasse. He had his odd blades against her chest, while she had one dagger behind his neck, the other at his throat. A long moment passed as they stood in silence. Katarina considered briefly to cut his throat, but as fast as he had proved to be, he would likely kill her in return.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

The sound came from behind her. From behind the desk. From her father. Knowing beyond doubt now why she had been summoned here, she jerked the blades away from the other assassin, making sure to leave a long slice along his unprotected shoulders. He in return dropped his knife from her heart, and flashed her a grim look as the light flickered on.

She looked him over. She had been lucky to leave a cut, she saw that now. He did in fact wear shoulder armor, but she had pulled her blade inside it; she nearly cursed herself for not noticing the armored shoulders. Besides the armor, the first thing she noticed was his eyes. Why it was them she was unsure, but they were dark, and half-hidden underneath his purple hood. But they were intense, and angry, and something she could not place… She cocked her head to the side, intrigued. Who was he? How had she never met him before? Though there were no shortage of assassins in the world, there were only so many, and she _should_ have heard of him.

His face was sharp angles and shadows, with a bit of stubble coating his chin. He was taller than she by at least four inches, and she guessed at most a few years older. Where had her father found him?

There was a hardness to him, but right now that told her little; most any man was hard at the edges these days, brought up for war and fighting in the world where the strongest survived. Handsome _and_ mysterious.

She saw him studying here with the same intensity as she did him, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Finished looking the man over, she turned to her father, expectantly awaiting his explanation.

Her father decided to answer her unasked question. "Katarina, this is Talon. I was sent to kill him."

_Talon_. She looked back at the hooded man, and decided that the name suited him, though she was unsure whether it was the one given to him or one he had chosen himself.

"The High Command wanted him. Given the choice between death and service, he wisely chose service to me."

The man nodded, as if to confirm her father's story.

"Talon, this is my oldest daughter, Katarina. I expect you have heard of her."

Again he nodded. He did not spare any words for pleasantries. There was no "hello, nice to meet you," or "how are you doing." She thought silence suited him, though she would have liked to hear his voice, so that she would recognize it. While she considered the man before her, she wondered how the High Command had come over him, and more importantly, how many assassins they had sent after him before sending her father. Her father was the best, and the High Command did not waste him on tasks that could be accomplished by the use of lesser men. That meant Talon must be someone formidable, indeed.

Not one to spare more time than necessary for introductions and explanations, her father cut straight to the point; "I have a mission for you."

"Father," she cautioned, knowing that their following conversation could be for no ears but theirs.

He nodded. "Cassiopeia." He spoke the name as a command, and the door burst open nearly instantaneously. It was clear that Cassiopeia had decided to stay and listen at the door. Katarina had expected it; her sister's usefulness at the High Command was decided by how much information she gathered. Right now, she had clearly been on her way to some high-ranking officer's room, finely dressed for the occasion, when she had heard of Katarina's summons. Her long brown hair hung in bouncy curls down her back, and her green eyes shone from under a thick black rim of lashes.

"Talon, this is my other daughter, Cassiopeia."

Cassiopeia beamed at him, and to Katarina's surprise she saw the hard-faced assassin falter, as if unsure as to what to make of the younger woman. His face settled back into his hard, calculating look once Cassiopeia smoothly moved from beaming to seductive, an art she was by now well practiced in.

"Leave us, Cassiopeia."

"Certainly, father," she answered, her silken voice directed towards Talon, keeping her heavy-lidded eyes on him. If Katarina had not seen this before, she would have sworn she was trying to bed the new assassin. However, her sister was merely measuring him, to find out what made him tick. From the satisfied smile on her face as she left, she seemed to have received what she had hoped for, and expected.

* * *

The shadows embraced her as she stepped into them, her red hair covered by a dark hood. When her eyes adjusted, she could easily make out the man almost lounging on the roof, spotting his target in preparation. She was not late, but he looked to have been here a while already. She supposed he wanted to impress her father on their first joined assignment.

It had been a week or so since the General had introduced her to Talon, and he had spent much of his time before they left at their manor house, but he had talked exceedingly little, seeming to prefer observing. In fact, he only spoke if asked a direct question, and even then it was only a guaranteed answer if it was her father doing the asking.

The man they had been sent to assassinate was a low-ranking officer in the noxian military. She had never seen the man before, but from her father's description of their target, it was rather obvious that Talon had found the right man. They had swiftly travelled to Demacia the moment they had received their task, and on their way there they had talked little. They had not even discussed how they were going to kill the officer.

The noxian officer had originally been sent to handle a prisoner exchange from their last scuffle at Demacia's request, but the Noxian High Command was disinclined to go through with the exchange. Thus, it had been decided that, if the officer was murdered while in Demacia, it would suffice as reasonable grounds for breaking the negotiations. Breaking them outright had also been considered, but there had been established a council of a sort that were handling the negotiations, and so that would be considered rude, and so decided against. It was easier to murder someone and leave them bleeding in the streets and then blame someone else.

It would be easy. She did not fully know why her father had sent them both; either of them would have been able to handle it on their own. However, she thought it might be to see if Talon was truly loyal, or if he would balk at the task. When he had dispatched the High Command's assassins, it had been to save his own life; this would not be self-defense.

She looked at the hard young man sitting on the rooftop, as comfortable in the shadows as she was herself. His eyes showed no emotion, and the set of his jaw showed only determination. His strange cape, a gift from her father apparently, glinted strangely in the dim moonlight.

"How do you want to do this?"

The whispered half-question hung in the air for a few moments before he answered, keeping his eyes trailed on the man they could see through the window. The officer's naked form was buried between the legs of a demacian whore, or escorts as they were called here. Katarina saw little difference between the two.

The man sitting next to her made no comment when the noxian officer flipped the whore over, leaving them with a plain view of both of them through the window.

She did not regret what they were about to do; the officer was a disgrace to the High Command, and to Noxus. If he could not even contain his urges for the one week he was designated to be here for the negotiations, he could not be counted on to do anything else, either.

And a demacian, none the less. Could he not at least have tried to find someone else? _Anyone_ would be better than a demacian whore.

"Demacia does not do assassinations."

It was the first words he had spoken to her in hours, and his deep voice was rusty. During their travel he had let his beard grow, and it made him look older. She thought perhaps the beard, and the deep voice, made him look about thirty, though in reality he was barely older than her.

Handsome, perhaps. Strong at the very least. She had easily been able to understand why the High Command wanted him badly enough to send dozens of assassins after him. She gave a hollow snort; perhaps that was why her father had sent them here together, in the hope that they would decided to marry and have other little assassins in time. Somehow she would not put it past him.

"No," she agreed, continuing to study the pair bouncing up and down on the bed. The blonde, busty woman wore a big smile and had her eyes closed as if in pleasure, but even from this distance Katarina could easily spot the effort she put into faking it for the officer. A cheap whore, then. How the officer did not spot the signs that the woman was faking it she had no clue.

"No weapons. Beaten to death by the two disgruntled brothers of one of our prisoners of war that died before the exchange could take place. Outside the house set aside for him."

"None of our prisoners have died."

"By the time they receive word, he will have."

It was a good plan. The demacian justice system would have no problem believing this behavior could occur when it was their brother who had died just before being released, especially if they thought his death had been painful and slow. That could easily be arranged, if she so had to do it herself. They even had the names of the prisoners who were supposed to be exchanged in two days, and so could fabricate the evidence of his death even before returning to Noxus. Then the High Command could claim it no longer had faith in the fact that Demacia would guarantee the safety of their diplomats, and could so pull the exchange without the suspicions being turned on them, or offending the demacians outright.

* * *

It was a good plan. Talon remained behind to keep an eye on the officer, while she went in search of two brothers of one of the men they could easily have killed upon their return. Charming her way through the bars, using lines of bravery of war and the pitiful conditions of dungeons, and the new hope for the prisoner exchange, she found three brothers who had their youngest brother in a noxian dungeon. She spiked their drinks as she toasted to their brother's bravery, and watched in satisfaction as they first in turn renewed their efforts to hit on her, and then fell like flies in the alley she had lured them under the pretense of lustful pleasures.

She nudged them with her boot, satisfied that they were sleeping heavily. They would wake up with a massive hangover, and thanks to the potion she had slipped into their drinks, no memory of the entire night.

It was nearly an hour after she found Talon that the noxian officer left the whore, and it was time for the final part of his plan. She let him take the lead, and watched carefully as the cloaked man handed her the blades he always seemed to have hidden up his sleeves whenever he was outside. She held tightly on to them, and kept lookout as Talon set upon the noxian officer with a vengeance.

She was surprised to see how adept he was at hand-to-hand combat, though it very quickly turned from a half-fair fight to a beatdown of the officer. He was no match for Talon, especially not when he was intoxicated and still drunk on his release.

It was a drawn out beating, mostly to make it look like there were more assailants. They wanted it to look like three, and specifically the three brothers she had earlier placed only a short distance away from the location of the officer's beating. She heard the sound of his jaw breaking, as well as several ribs being crushed. Eventually the alley near the diplomats house fell silent, and she quietly approached the other assassin as he stood leant over the broken body of the officer. The man was dead; his eye swollen shut, his lip split and several of his teeth knocked out.

Talon looked to her, his eyes somehow more alive than usual. Another might have thought it strange, to feel thrilled at the thought of what he had just done, but she understood; he had just solidified his bond to her father, and proved himself to the High Command, but more importantly, to the General. He knew why she had been sent with him, that she was meant to take note of his performance and report.

She nodded her grim approval.

His bloody knuckles grasped her chin and pulled her into a kiss. It was not a kiss as was shared between lovers. It was not a gentle, nor a lustful kiss. It was passionate and distant at once, but filled with a sense of camaraderie. His strong hands, slick against her cheek held tightly on to her for a long moment before he released her, and the quiet spell around them seemed broken. His eyes no longer held an expression for her to read, and she was sure hers were just as blank.

If this had been her father's plan, it had failed miserably. She had decided she liked the other assassin, though more in a brotherly fashion, and as a fellow assassin. He was good at what he did, and he knew it. He was her equal in many ways, and she liked that. The manner of his matter-of-fact kiss, and a quiet smile told her he felt the same way. It was good.

Now that they had celebrated their success, they set about silently arranging the evidence of the fight, which included brusing the knuckles of the brothers, and leaving blood all over them.

Their mission was a success; with the added measures they would set in motionwhen back in Noxus, the prisoner exchange would never be completed.

They left Demacia shortly before dawn, setting out in a comfortable silence, as only true companions could.


End file.
